Page 117 of Heimlock

The whiskey burns my tongue as I watch Fynn dance with Orliana. He cradles her like she’s the most precious thing. It lightens my dark heart, seeing them finally accept their connection.

It was incredibly obnoxious while they fought it, though.

Smiling to myself, I take another sip of my drink. Without prompting, Kyrielle’s face floats in my mind, taunting me. When the sex club’s suite’s door opened to reveal the woman I haven’t stopped thinking about for months, my heart almost stopped beating entirely. Months of watching her from afar didn’t compare to having her close again, placing her hand in mine in the mockery of a greeting.

Maybe I should try again when we get home. Even if it would pain me to do so, I’d try quitting the gym to give it a shot. Watching Fynn and Orliana fall in love renews the bit of hope in this decrepit romantic heart.

I was born a romantic in a world determined to devastate.

A prickling awareness stops the glass halfway to my mouth. Fynn’s gaze is on me, a look of horror widening his eyes. Before I can find out what he’s reacting to, a dark, familiar voice says into my ear, “I’ve missed your body.”

Four words scrape out my insides and replace them with ebony hopelessness.

45

I’m exiting the gym, freshly showered after a solid three hours of practice, when my phone rings. Orliana’s face pops up.

Smiling, I answer. “Hey, how are you?”

“Kyrielle!” she wails.

Every alarm system in my body blares. It physically hurts as my heart booms against my ribs in response to her devastation. I’m already rushing to the cliff. “What? Where? Tell me.”

“Trinte …” She’s sobbing so hard, she can barely speak. At the mention of his name, my stomach plummets.

“What’s wrong with Trinte? Is he dead?” Please don’t be dead. Sweet goddess, please don’t be dead.

“He … He …” She gulps for air, and frustration flares right next to my fear.

“Is he dead?” I scream into the phone, sprinting for the cliff now.

“No!” She inhales while hyperventilating. “His father …” She sobs again. Latching my backpack across my chest, I run full speed at the cliff. She just needs to tell me where to go.

“Where is he?” I snarl. “Orliana, so help me fucking goddess, if you don’t tell me what the fuck is happening right now.”

“I don’t know,” she cries out, her words coming out in a rush. “His father showed up. Trinte tried to kill him. Fynn tried to stop him with electricity. Trinte attacked him. I don’t know where he is.”

Holy fuck. This is bad.

“And you don’t know where he is?” I’m almost pleading for her answer to be different.

“No.”

“Is Fynn okay?”

She sniffles, sounding a little more calm. “I don’t know how to answer that. Trinte punched him, shattered his eye-socket, then said he never wanted to see him again.”

“Okay. Keep me posted. I gotta go.”

Leaping off the cliff, I hang up.

46

Death would be a relief.

47

It’s eerie déjà vu as I pound on his door. “Trinte, open up!”